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"In Germany they came first for the Communists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics and I didn't speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me and by that time no one was left to speak up."
Martin Niemoller

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Good morning from a brisk but sunny morining in Vancouver. There is a sense of fall around the corner. In conversations with colleagues and clients I hear stories of people getting ready for school and university, and there is a sense, in my neighbourhood anyway, of getting out and about for the last weeks of summer.

Working in a group coaching session yesterday, I had sent the group (as I often do) some questions to prepare for the work. Included was one question that seemed to hit home for the group; ‘what is the most fun you’ve ever had?’ The answers were wonderful and eclectic, and also had some common themes; the most fun was always with company, and was always doing something outside of the norm for the person.

This got me thinking about the relationship between fun and creativity. One of my favorite books of all time is “Orbiting the Giant Hairball” by Gordon MacKenzie (http://www.amazon.com/Orbiting-Giant-Hairball-Corporate-Surviving/dp/0670879835). In it, the late and missed MacKenzie, explores creativity and fun in the workplace and what we can do individually and collectively to foster and rekindle lost creativity. Much of what he says echoes the idea of stepping outside the norm and doing that with company. One of the pieces of the book that struck me in my most recent re-reading of it was a poem by the Sufi mystic Rumi (1207 – 1273), in the opening pages of the book. Read this, and think about your own creativity and the creativity of your team and organization; what’s holding you back?

Wean Yourself

Little by little wean yourself,
This is the jist of what I have to say.

From an embryo whose nourishment comes from the blood,
Move to an infant drinking milk,
To a child on solid food,
To a searcher after wisdom,
To a hunter of more invisible game.

Think of how it is to have a conversation with an embryo.
You might say “the world outside is vast and intricate,
There are wheatfields and mountain passes,
And orchards in bloom.

At night there are millions of galaxies and in sunlight,
The beauty of friends dancing at a wedding.”

You ask the embryo why he or she stays cooped up
in the dark with eyes closed.
                        Listen to the answer    

There is no “other world.”
I only know what I’ve experienced.
You must be hallucinating.

            Rumi